


I Just Keep Coughing Up Flowers

by Wake_The_Dragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Endgame Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Minor Character Death, Parent Death, Reformed Slytherins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29909973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wake_The_Dragon/pseuds/Wake_The_Dragon
Summary: Hanahaki Disease AU. Harry Potter was going to be the death of her, though Daphne Greengrass doubted either of them counted on death by heartbreak. Still she has to choose between giving up her love or dying, or does she? Love is Harry's greatest power after all. Angst with a happy ending.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley, Short lived Daphne Greengrass/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	I Just Keep Coughing Up Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Harry Potter or its characters; they belong to JK Rowling. The story and chapter titles are from the song 'Coughing Up Flowers' by Trinity Rose. Thanks to Wikipedia for the Hanahaki summary.
> 
> Warnings: Minor character deaths, not on screen; (complicated) grief around the death of an (implied) emotionally abusive parent. No major character death.

_Hanahaki Disease: A rare disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated. Other symptoms may include: fever, uncontrollable shaking, loss of appetite, low body temperature, and hallucinations._

_It is a purely magical disease and no muggles have ever contracted it. Any witch or wizard could develop it, though it is more common in purebloods; it has even been observed to run in some families, but not often._

_The victim will die unless the plant is removed by a healer or, in the rarest cases, the object of the victim’s unrequited love returns their affections. The removal of the plant will always remove the victim’s feelings for the object of their desire, as well as their memories of that person; side effects such as depression are common and it strongly recommended that the patient be evaluated by a mind healer for any averse mental or emotional disorders. In extreme cases, they can lose the ability to feel romantic love at all._

_Depending on the victim, the disease may last anywhere from three months to a year without treatment. The longest known case was eighteen months._

_-The Encyclopedia of Magical Maladies_

* * *

Daphne had been around eight years old when she found out that love could be deadly. Of course, thanks to her parents, she’d already known that it could be unpleasant but fatal seemed like a stretch. She’d been bored and looking through her family’s library when she saw an illustration in one of the books: a woman with a rose growing out of her mouth. Underneath that was the word Hanahaki, which she didn’t recognize at all.

Father had left for the week on business, but he wasn’t always the easiest to get answers from. Even when he was at home, he was hard to approach and he could make her feel so stupid for not knowing the answer herself. Mother was here and not in one of her ‘dark moods’ (her words, not Daphne’s), but she was busy in her studio in her wing of the house. It was too bad she wasn’t at the stables, since their love of the horses was something they had in common.

Daphne held the book in hand and knocked on the door to her mother’s studio and after a minute knocked again. Before she could knock for a third time, her mother’s distracted voice called, “Entrez!” She opened the door to see her mother was still focused on her canvas and Daphne had to tug on her robes to get her attention again. “Daphne. Que veux-tu?”

"Excusez-moi, maman.” She held the book open to show her mother and tapped her finger under the word ‘Hanahaki’ for emphasis. “Qu’est-ce que ça veut dire?”

Mother frowned down at the book, before sighing. Switching back to English, she asked, “Is that book from one of the shelves that I told you not to read from until you were older?”

“N-no,” she said, face turning pink.

Mother shook her head. “Yes, just like you weren’t the one who caused it to snow in the living room when your sister broke your little toy dragon.” Daphne winced. She got mad when Astoria had accidentally snapped one of the wings off her toy Swedish Short-Snout (that could fly!) and lost control of her magic. But she’d told Tori not to touch it! “We were planning to wait until you were older, but I suppose if I don’t tell you, you’ll just go looking for the answer anyway. It’s a disease, but not a common one. It causes flowers to grow inside a witch or wizard until they choke to death on them, if not treated.”

Her eyes were wide now. “What causes it?”

“You’re not going to get it, ma bichette. Children do not get it. You only get it if you fall in love with someone who doesn’t love you.” Sighing, she turned fully away from the canvas for the first time during their conversation and asked, “You remember your cousin, Ariadne, right?”

She thought and came up with the image of a pretty woman with blonde hair and pained grey eyes. “The sad one?” Daphne had only met this particular cousin a few times, and only at the parties her parents made her and Astoria go to; she had never spoken to her for long either as Ariadne normally went off by herself after long enough.

Her mother scoffed, “She is a bit more than just sad, Daphne. When you were a baby, Ariadne had Hanahaki. Her fiancé betrayed her and ran off and weeks after she started coughing up flower petals. Eventually she started coughing up full roses, thorns and all.” Daphne flinched and her mother nodded. “Yes, it is quite painful. She is still alive because she went to a healer to have the flowers removed; she fell out of love with the man and can no longer remember him...but she was not the same after. The removal can have other lasting effects.”

“But going to a healer is supposed to make you feel better.”

Mother just sighed deeply, “Sometimes a cure can be as bad as the disease. This is another reason to be glad this sickness is rare, however.” Mother’s face was very serious all of a sudden, “Your father’s,” -said with her usual disdain of anything to do with father - “side of the family has had more than a fair share of cases over the centuries. You and your sister should be careful when you grow up; giving your heart to someone is not to be taken lightly.” Something flashed in her eyes very quickly, but Daphne had been too young then to recognize bitterness.

Daphne scrunched her nose. “I’m not going to fall in love. Boys are gross.”

Mother laughed shortly. “Give it a few years and see if you still feel the same. Now, please leave before my inspiration leaves me. And do not tell your sister...I will be cross if she has nightmares over this.” Daphne didn’t know why; mother’s room wasn’t that close to either of theirs so she wouldn’t be the one getting woken up if Astoria had a bad dream.

That conversation had been the most she’d thought of Hanahaki disease in years. Yes, it sometimes came up in books or plays, but those tended not to be her type anyway. (She preferred horror to sappy melodramatic romances.) Some of the girls she grew up with thought it was romantic (like Tori or Sophie Roper) which made her roll her eyes; it sounded drawn out and painful and the cure could sometimes be disastrous. (Ariadne had died a year after Daphne had started at Hogwarts; no one would tell her or Astoria how, and Daphne decided it was perhaps best not to ask.)

Though even knowing that the after effects of treatment could be bad, Daphne still couldn’t understand why someone wouldn’t just risk it. Why would you want to let yourself die just because someone didn’t love you?

She found out when she was twenty-four.

All thanks to Harry Potter.

* * *

Falling in love hadn’t been obvious or quick for her and she didn’t even realize it until she’d reached the point of no return.

While in school, she never really interacted with Harry Potter beyond what was necessary in classes. She wasn’t intimidated by him and she didn’t hate him like some people in her house did (looking at you, Draco); he just sort of existed to her. She interacted with his friend, Hermione Granger, more during Arithmancy and Runes classes. After school, she started working at the Department of Mysteries while he’d become an Auror and she’d see him around the Ministry, but any interactions mostly consisted of nods or ‘good morning’. They wouldn’t actually become anything meaningful in each other’s lives until they were twenty-two and brought together in August by a surprising development:

Their best friends started dating.

“So Weasley ended up not being a git then,” she asked Pansy, laughing. Daphne didn’t really care who her friends dated as long as they were happy, but she was still just a little surprised given Pansy and Ron’s histories. Git was actually a word that had been used a few times by Pansy when Weasley was brought up in conversation back in the Slytherin dorms, usually because of Draco’s obsession with Potter.

“Oh shut up, Daph. It’s not that funny,” Pansy sniffed, but her mouth was threatening to smile. She’d met Pansy outside of St. Mungo’s, where her friend was working as a trainee healer, and left with her to go to a muggle bar; Daphne appreciated the strategy of that choice. What better way to figure out if someone still bought into the pureblood bullshite their parents had forced down their throats to different degrees than by bringing them around muggles? It stung a little four years after the war, but she understood it. Daphne also saw the strategy on Pansy’s part; yes, Daphne’s father had go flee the country to avoid prison and yes, Daphne’s sister was dating their former nemesis, but Daphne had mostly stayed out of the way of them at school and she fought in the last battle. She was a safe choice.

In Pansy’s own words: “You are the least infuriating Slytherin from our year. I know I can count on you to behave yourself.”

Which in Slytherin-speak meant: “You are my best friend. I need your support.”

Daphne smiled back lazily. “You know other people would have just said I was the most charming Slytherin from our year if they wanted to convince me to go somewhere. Butter me up a little.”

Translation: “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

Pansy narrowed her eyes. “Do not make me regret inviting you over Tracey, Daph.” Still she hugged Daphne, once she finished speaking.

Translation: “Thank you. I love you.”

(Now she wondered if Pansy was going to look back on that conversation and regret bringing her.)

So that was how she ended up at a table with three war heroes and Pansy. Ron had grinned when he saw Pansy walk through the door and kissed her once they got to the table. Then he’d smiled and extended a hand to Daphne, “It’s great to finally meet you. Pansy’s told me a lot about you.” He was warm and friendly and had a firm grip as he grabbed her hand.

“Likewise,” she said, smiling back as she shook his hand.

Hermione Granger was next; she was friendly, though Daphne had gotten the impression that she was watching Pansy, but not in a jealous ex-way. More in a ‘you better be good for one of my best friends’ way which was fair after everything that happened before and during the war. And finally she was being introduced to Harry himself; he was acting more relaxed than his two friends and was quieter.

“Greengrass. I didn’t know the Ministry let Unspeakables out of the basement,” he chuckled as she took a seat, after glancing around to make sure no muggles were close enough to hear. He was handsomer than she remembered, more filled out, and also very taken by a certain red-haired, Quidditch player. He was firmly out of bounds.

She smirked at him. “It’s adorable you’d think I’d wait for permission.”

Somehow they ended up playing pool as the other three got into a very competitive looking game of darts. “Have you played before?” He’d asked as he grabbed two pool cue sticks and held one out for her.

“I’ve played a little,” she shrugged, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. Potter didn’t notice it then, but he fixed her with a suspicious gaze as the game ended with her sinking the eight-ball.

She smiled pleasantly at him.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You pool hustled me. Seriously?”

“Hustling is such a strong word. I’d prefer to call it being modest,” she answered airily.

His mouth twitched upwards. “Oh yes, modesty. One of your old house’s most well known traits. How could I forget?” He pushed his glasses back up his nose and commented, “You’re really not what I thought Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend would be like.”

“Draco is not my boyfriend,” she said, grimacing. “You’re thinking of my little sister. But to be fair, Tori isn’t at all like what you’re probably thinking either. You’d like her.” She had a fairly good guess of what he’d pictured: Hogwarts-era Pansy. Shrugging, she said, “She’s probably easier to get along with than me.”

“I don’t know about that. I’ve been having fun with you...your cheating, pool hustling ways aside.”

That got a surprised smile out of her. “Again. Cheating, hustling, all very strong words. But I’ve been having fun too.” Her smile turned into a smirk. “Even if you are a sore loser.”

He mock-glared at her. “That’s it. Rematch now.”

* * *

At the start, they mostly only hung out when their respective friends invited them both to things. If they ran into each other at work, their conversations started slowly evolving from ‘good morning’ and ‘nice weather we’re having’ to ‘how is your day going’ and ‘are you going out with the others tonight too’ and beyond.

When they got to the point of ‘you think the Weird Sisters are a better band than Spellbound, seriously’ that was when their friendship became official.

When their schedules would allow, she’d have lunch with him and Granger, which she’d usually drag Theo along with her, because if left without supervision Theo would go without eating when there were time-turners to try and make. Theo and Granger actually got on well, and lunches with all four of them ended up being fun. Then again when the other two weren’t available, lunch with just her and Potter ended up being fun too.

“You know what could be fun? If you started calling me Harry instead of Potter,” he’d started during one lunch, without the other two.

“You have a very tame definition of fun,” she’d answered back, the corners of her mouth lifting up. She had no real objection to calling him by his first name -she was slightly surprised that the suggestion came out of the blue, but whatever - but she liked to tease him.

“Yeah well, in all fairness I did peak at seventeen,” he said with such a straight face that she couldn’t help but laugh. “But seriously think about it? If you do, I’ll call you Daphne.”

His shy smile combined with him saying her first name caused a spark of warmth in her chest.

“Alright, alright. Just don’t make it weird, Harry.”

“Ah, there goes my plan to mark today on my calendar to commemorate the day that Daphne Greengrass finally called me by my first name.”

She mock-glared at him. “Damn it, Harry. What did I just get through telling you?”

After that conversation, Weasley and Granger ended up becoming Ron and Hermione too. Pansy had been happy, as had Theo for reasons she didn’t understand until she dropped by Hermione’s flat to return a book and Theo answered the door.

(“It’s not that we’re keeping it a secret,” Hermione had started on an explanation without Daphne asking for one. Or wanting one in the first place for that matter.

“But the sneaking around does make it sexier,” Theo had interrupted, smirking. His green eyes - lighter in colour than the bottle green of Harry’s - danced in laughter.

Hermione slapped him lightly on the arm. “We just want to wait and make sure it’s serious first. So please keep this to yourself?”

Daphne shrugged. “Sure. As long as you promise to name your first child after me.”

Even Hermione laughed then. 

Daphne had kept her word, though it ended up being pointless in the end. Pansy found them in flagrante delicto and her surprised yelling made sure everyone in the pub heard. The expressions on Ron and Harry’s faces had been priceless. ) 

Throughout that fall, they met more of each other’s friends and she even somehow ended up being convinced to go on some double date with Harry, his then-girlfriend Ginny, and Blaise, since their on-off relationship had been back on at the time. Dinner had been mostly fine - though Blaise’s eyeing the server twice, no doubt signaled them being off again soon - and she liked Ginny, who’d had a good sense of humor.

(“You’re playing Pride of Portree next week right?” asked Blaise, an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah,” said Ginny, tilting her head to the side slightly as she noticed Blaise’s amusement. “Does that mean something?”

He nudged her shoulder and she rolled her eyes. “Pride of Portree is my team,” she told Ginny.

“Ah. Sorry in advance for beating them?” she shrugged, smiling.

Daphne snorted. “Apology accepted. Now allow me to make one as well: I’m sorry for hoping they knock you off your broom in the next match.”

Ginny threw her head back and laughed. “I like you.”

Harry had said nothing; he’d been unusually quiet for the last ten minutes.)

Harry had not liked Blaise. Something he had made clear the next time they had lunch. “You and Zabini aren’t a serious thing right?”

“Shall I take this question to mean you didn’t like him?”

“I didn’t like the way he kept eyeing the waitress,” he said, with his usual lack of subtlety.

Daphne just sighed. “No, we’re not particularly serious. I thought we could be at one point, but we don’t fit together that way. We’ll probably end it again soon.”

It wasn’t something she could tell Potter, but she’d started thinking Blaise came back to her because he hated being alone.

Another thing she definitely couldn’t tell Potter or anyone else: she took him back when she was feeling lonely too.

(It didn’t happen as often anymore. Another reason she and Blaise would be ending things again.)

Harry visibly relaxed. “Right. I’m glad.” She arched an eyebrow at him and he shook his head. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just think you could do better than him.”

He said it quietly, with complete sincerity.

She and Blaise lasted to the end of the week.

However, the biggest test was Harry finally meeting Astoria that October. The three of them ended up going to a restaurant for a few reasons: to avoid the attention Harry would get, which would increase if he was seen with Draco Malfoy’s new fiancée; Daphne had ended up spending more time in muggle areas thanks to Hermione and Harry, and she was still intrigued by it (she’d even started listening to muggle radio stations); Tori herself was interested by the idea too.

She got there first and grabbed a table; Astoria got there next and was distracted by the devices (mobiles, at least that’s what she thought Hermione and Harry had called them) some of the muggles were using. Daphne poked her in the side and whispered, “Stop looking at them like you’ve never seen those things before.”

Harry showed up a few minutes later and Tori had something new to focus on as Daphne cast Muffliato. “Hi I’m Astoria,” she said, an easy smile in place. “I can safely say only half of the bad things Daphne told you about me are true.”

Daphne had rolled her eyes. “It’s too late, Tori. I already told him about the time you bit me when you were losing a board game.”

“I was five!”

“And a brat,” she laughed as Astoria stuck her tongue out at her.

“Hey, I have plenty of stories where you were the bad one,” Astoria defended herself. A mischievous glint lit up her eyes and she turned to Harry, “Let me know if you ever want to hear some. You know when Daph’s not around.”

Harry looked between the two of them before cracking an amused smile. “Sure, that sounds fun.”

“Traitor,” Daphne said, but she was smiling.

Harry smirked at her before turning to ask Astoria, “So, you’re a potioneer?” He glanced at Daphne out of the corner of his eye and she inclined her head.

“Yes, I am,” Tori answered happily.

“Can I ask...how did you keep that interest after years of classes with Snape and then Slughorn?”

“Oh, that’s an easy one.” She leaned forward, face serious. “Stubbornness. Sheer bull-headed stubbornness.” The seriousness vanished in a second as she laughed softly and Harry smiled.

Daphne let herself take more of a backseat in their conversation, more interested in how her sister and Harry would get along and was very relieved to see it was going well. Maybe a little more relieved than she would have thought, but Tori was the only family member she was really close to and her opinion mattered to Daphne.

She should have known there was nothing to be nervous about.

Astoria had to leave first, but she and Harry weren’t in a hurry. “Did I agree to have lunch with her and Draco sometime?” he asked her, blinking.

“I’m afraid so,” she laughed.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” he asked, only a little disgruntled. Draco had made an effort to change after the war and Harry said they no longer hated each other, but they weren’t exactly friends.

“Hey, he’s going to be my brother-in-law so my hands are tied. Tori loves him.”

He looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup and she sat up straighter. “You love her a lot,” he commented.

Her lips curled into a smirk. “I better. Otherwise I’m going to have to get my head-checked for agreeing to be maid of honor for this upcoming circus.”

“You always do that.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I always do what?”

“Make some kind of joke when you’re put on the spot about feelings. Or you change the subject.” She stilled, opened her mouth and closed it again. How had he picked up on that when she hadn’t even been fully aware of it? Was she that obvious? He frowned at her reaction and looked at her in concern. “I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to...I should have kept that thought to myself. Forget I said anything.”

She just took another sip of coffee without saying anything. A few seconds later, she no doubt played right into that observation by asking, “What’s the name of that muggle band I said I liked again? I want to hear more of their music.”

He fidgeted in his seat but went along with the subject change, probably just go try and get over the awkwardness of the last few minutes. They were only there about another fifteen minutes before leaving. As they were leaving he said, “You were right about Astoria not being like what I’d have assumed Malfoy’s girlfriend would be like.” He looked over at her and he continued, “But you were wrong about something too.”

“Really?”

“You said I’d like her better than you. You’re still my favorite Greengrass.”

She couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face in response.

* * *

That hadn’t been the moment her feelings for him had started changing. At least she didn’t think so, but it was always possible that she just hadn’t noticed when her feelings had changed.

No, Daphne really suspected that her feelings had changed in earnest a little over a year after meeting him at the bar. Even more specific: it happened after her father’s death.

Daphne had been pulled away from a meeting in the Department of Mysteries to be sent up to the DMLE. An older Auror had met her almost as soon as she got off the lift and ushered her into an empty room; just before the door shot, she made eye contact with Harry and he looked away from her. There was only one reason why she’d be brought up here out of nowhere:

Father.

Had he done something terrible enough to get dragged back to England?

Daphne steeled herself for whatever bad news about her father she was going to get but still felt as if she’d been punched in the gut, when the man got to the point: “I am very sorry to have to tell you this, but your father was reported as deceased. Our colleagues at the Swedish Ministry informed us-“

Daphne could barely hear the rest over the pounding in her ears. She thought she heard words and phrases such as ‘likely a death by accident’ and ‘investigation’ but none of it was coming through. She nodded along before asking in a voice that was probably too calm if her sister and mother were being informed as well. She thought the answer to that was yes, and then she was being told to go home and that her supervisors in the Department of Mysteries would be informed.

She left the room and turned to head to the lifts when a hand grabbed her on the arm. “I’m taking you home,” Harry said gently but firmly. She looked at him blankly and the frown on his face deepened. The silence lasted all the way to the apparition point, and all the way to her home.

Her family’s home.

There were a lot of memories here with her father, many of them bad, and she could feel her shock slowly lifting. “My father died,” she said to Harry as he led her to the sitting room.

His green eyes turned sad. “I’m really sorry, Daphne.”

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that the last words her father spoke to her was ‘don’t be such an idiot, Daphne’ right before she joined the reinforcements going back to Hogwarts during the battle. It wasn’t fair that he’d spent most of her life making her feel that she had to constantly prove she wasn’t useless; it wasn’t fair how he and mother had carried on their horrible, toxic relationship without caring about the effect on their daughters. It wasn’t fair that he’d done his best to make her think of their family as above everyone else and to at least tolerate pureblood supremacy.

It wasn’t fair that he’d gone beyond self-preservation and into aiding and abetting the cause during the war. It wasn’t fair that he fled the country before she even returned home from the final battle to confront him.

It wasn’t fair that it had to be Harry who brought her home. Harry was kind and a better person than she would ever be; he had lost so much to the madman her father had bowed to and his own parents had given their lives when faced with that same madman. It wasn’t fair that he was the one who had to deal with her right now.

Her eyes began to burn.

“Don’t be.” Her breathing was becoming ragged. The stinging in her eyes started to give way to tears, despite the anger building inside. “Don’t.”

She looked down as the tears started coming stronger now. There was a sigh from above her head and then the feeling of someone sitting beside her and wrapping their arms around her. Instinctively, she pushed away but his arms just tightened around her and he pulled her closer to him. He murmured something too soft for her to catch and slowly she stopped fighting against him; instead, she leaned against his chest and started to cry in a way she hadn’t done since she was a little girl. Harry just let her, occasionally rubbing a hand on her back and whispering something.

She didn’t know how long they were like that before her tears finally ran dry. She leaned against him as she calmed, not ready to look at his face and see pity or whatever other emotion was there, and she said softly, “I don’t know why I’m crying.” Her voice was hoarse and scratchy to her own ears. “He was a terrible person and an awful father. I hated him.” It felt good to say it out loud.

“That’s okay,” Harry answered, still holding onto her. “He was your father so you can hate him if you want or scream or cry.” There was no judgement from him then, just concern.

She made a noise that could have charitably been called a giggle, though nothing was funny. “That’s not what he would have said. He’d tell me I was weak and that I was embarrassing him.”

His arms tightened around her again. “He sounds like a right arsehole. And that was probably something I should not have said to you right now. I’m sorry-“ He was interrupted as she started laughing or crying or both again. Even she wasn’t sure.

“Thank you.” He felt so warm and she felt so safe with him, so cared for. It was easy to see how people were drawn to him, how easy it would be to love him, how easy it was for her to love him.

No.

She finally pulled back from him and rubbed at her own eyes, too tired to care that she looked like a right mess. Too tired to think clearly obviously. “I’m sorry for going to pieces on you.”

“Daph,” he sighed, fondly exasperated. Her heart skipped at the sound of that nickname coming from him in that tone. “Your father just died. You’re allowed to be a mess and I’m your friend. This kind of thing is what I should be here for.” She said nothing and he rubbed the back of his head. “I have to go back to work soon. Do you want me to let the others know? I don’t really want to leave you alone.”

Alone didn’t sound so horrible but she just shrugged.

Harry stood up and she missed the proximity within seconds. He walked out to another room, pulling out his wand as he did, and she imagined a few people were about to get a message via patronus. Daphne shut her eyes and tried not to think about anything, but that was interrupted by the sound of someone coming through the floo.

Draco stood in front of her, looking at her in concern. The war and its aftermath had done away with a lot of his arrogance, though not all. (Then again, wasn’t that true for all of them to different degrees?) He was more serious, thoughtful, but still had a sarcastic edge, but that was conspicuously missing today. Damn, she must look worse than she thought. “I’m sorry, Daphne.”

She nodded. “How’s Tori?”

Draco’s eyes softened even more. “She’s not great. She’s asking for you to come over. I think she just wants family around right now.”

Daphne stood up immediately.

“Thank you.” At that moment Harry walked back into the room, Draco’s eyes widened. “Potter.”

Harry stopped, clearly not expecting Draco to be here either. “Malfoy.” He turned his face to Daphne and said, “I told the others. You’ll probably be hearing from them soon. If you’re alright with Malfoy, I should be heading back to the ministry now.”

“Yes. I’m going to see Tori. Thanks for everything, Harry,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Anytime. Malfoy, give Astoria my condolences, please.”

“Of course. Thanks for looking after Daphne.”

Way to make it sound like she was a child he’d been babysitting. 

Daphne shot Draco an annoyed look. Harry's mouth twitched before nodding to Draco and letting himself out. The door had just closed when Draco stated, "We're going to be family when Astoria and I get married. Malfoys take family seriously. If Potter was good to you, then I'll thank him for that." 

Daphne blinked slowly. She’d thought Draco’s gentler demeanor today had all been a result of caring for Astoria or just not being used to her like this; she had underestimated him. “Thank you, Draco.”

He shifted uncomfortably under her stare. “We’re going back to our usual banter as soon as you’re feeling better.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” He smiled before going back through the fireplace and she followed after him ten seconds later. As soon as she was at Malfoy Manor, Draco led her up to the bedroom and stepped aside and let her go through the door.

“Hey Tori,” she said softly as she walked towards the bed where Astoria had curled up. Her heart ached as Astoria looked up at her with red-rimmed and puffy looking eyes. She sat up at least, if only to bear hug Daphne the moment Daphne sat on the bed.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she started crying again and Daphne just held her.

The funeral and wake in the coming days gave her something else to focus on, even though mother had actually taken charge of preparations after arriving from southern France. Mother’s own reaction had been unexpectedly mournful, but perhaps in a more distinct way than normally expected of a widow.

Her parents had been married in name only for years and had despised each other for almost as long as Daphne could remember. She’d raged when father had run, but that anger had been more focused on what that would mean for them rather than worry over his safety and decisions. So Daphne had not quite expected the solemn manner or even tears that she’d shed a couple of times.

“Oh no, I hated your father passionately and still do,” she had admitted to Daphne as the two of them looked after the horses. It had been a long time since they’d done this together and it brought her back to her childhood when her mother had personally taught her how to take care of the family horses. “He was a very hard man to be married to and I hope you girls won’t have to experience something like it. Is Draco-“

“He loves Astoria more than anything,” Daphne had said. It was one of the few things she couldn’t fault him for.

“Bien bien.” Her expression turned sorrowful as she continued, “There was a time I felt that way about your father and I thought he loved me, well you can see how that turned out. I will always despise him, but I took some comfort in the idea that he was still out there in the world. Part of me loves him still to my surprise, but I hate him more.”

That had been as confusing as it sounded. Then again she and Astoria still mourned the man in some way despite everything. Feelings weren’t always straightforward much to her frustration.

At least she had her friends to rely on. Her fellow Slytherins were obviously there for her, but even the newer friends she’d gotten thanks to Pansy widening their social circle were also kind. Ron had come over one night with more food than was quite necessary, all home made and quite delicious smelling actually. He’d shrugged with his hands in the pockets of his jeans after safely depositing everything in the kitchen. “Mum always said food helps the grieving process. I know after Fred died, food wasn’t something we really thought about or wanted all the time, but it was good to have when we did. I reckoned you were probably caught up in everything and might need someone to help with that.” His ears had turned pink as he spoke and he looked uncertain.

She wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised when she hugged him.

Hermione, Ginny (there was a stab of guilt there she didn’t acknowledge), and Harry (more guilt she couldn’t fully acknowledge) had all sent condolences; Ginny had sent a card and a food basket since she was away with the Harpies, whereas Harry and Hermione had visited and sent cards.

It wasn’t until the day of the funeral itself that she would get the biggest indicator that her friends loved her. She’d walked into the room they were holding the wake in and stopped in her tracks as she saw some of the most colourful, outlandishly big wreaths ever. Daphne walked over to them and saw each of them from her former yearmates: Pansy and Ron had sent a purple one, Daphne’s favorite colour; Tracey had gone with bright pink flowers; Theo (and Hermione) and Blaise had sent yellow and orange flower arrangements respectively; Millicent, who couldn’t come in person, had sent vivid red flowers; Draco had sent sunflowers; and Harry had sent an arrangement of red and gold.

Her father had been in Slytherin like her.

Daphne was laughing before she could stop herself. She brought her hand up to her mouth to stifle it, but she couldn’t stop right away. At the same time, her eyes were growing watery. Tori came up beside her and linked an arm around hers. “Father would hate all of these,” Tori commented, unable to keep from giggling. “I love it.” Mother had rolled her eyes when she saw them, but even she cracked a small smile.

The weekend following found Daphne dragged out to a club with all of them. Somehow after drinking more than enough, she ended dancing with Harry before the two of them went outside for air. “Could you have looked anymore uncomfortable,” she laughed.

He shrugged. “This isn’t really my scene. You’re more into it than I thought.”

It was her turn to shrug. “I can’t do this all the time, only when I’m in the mood. And I needed it after this week.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Thank you for the flowers. I’m surprised you didn’t go all in and have the arrangement shaped like a lion’s head.”

“I thought of doing that,” he smirked. “Hermione thought it might have been a little over the top, so I played it safe. I’m glad you liked them anyway.”

“I loved them. Father’s face would have been something.” Maybe it was the alcohol, or just all the emotions about her father she didn’t want to unpack, but suddenly she was blinking back tears. “Shite. I’m sorry this keeps happening around you.”

“If you can’t cry in front of your friends, who could you cry in front of?” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled her into his arms and this time without a fight. She hugged back and buried her face in his shoulder, breathing him in as she tried to center herself.

She felt completely safe in his arms.

More so than with almost anyone else.

She shouldn’t be feeling that way. That thought brought her back to reality and she pulled away from him. “Let’s go back inside.”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

* * *

Daphne had wanted to believe that those feelings were just something she imagined. She’d been grieving her father and hadn’t been thinking clearly; instead she’d just mistaken gratitude on her part for something deeper. Harry Potter was her friend. Her very not single friend, and whose girlfriend she liked.

This wasn’t happening.

She spent the better part of the next year burying these feelings, as was the traditional pureblood way. She concentrated on her enjoyable work in the Department of Mysteries and when the time came the planning of Astoria’s wedding and hen do. Some in the old pureblood circles had wagged their tongues about the wedding not even being a full year after their father’s funeral, but they ignored them.

As Tori herself put it: “Father always tried to control our lives when he was alive. He is not affecting my wedding from the grave.”

Draco wanted to be married to Tori more than anything, as quickly as possible, and had shut down some comments from his mother about the subject.

Making sure her little sister had the wedding she dreamed of at least gave her something nice to focus on. Between that and work if she had less time to spend with individual friends (Harry), that was just to be expected. She usually still showed up when a group was involved or when Theo pulled her away from a magical artefact to have lunch with the other two. (“Is there a reason we’ve switched roles here?” he’d asked dryly and she’d rolled her eyes at him instead of answering.)

Distance was the only answer. If she just stopped being around him one on one so much, then any irritating thoughts or feelings would go away. Spoiler warning: it didn’t work. It just seemed the longer she was aware of those feelings the stronger they became. That Harry didn’t notice had mostly been the results of two things: 1) an operation from the auror office and 2) problems in his own relationship.

Daphne tried to keep herself as ignorant of the second issue as possible, though she couldn’t miss the way Harry had become more withdrawn in the months following the funeral or that Ginny never seemed to show up for things anymore, even when she wasn’t away with her team. She didn’t like seeing him down like that, but she couldn’t pry or give advice either, not when her own feelings were so hard to control. Still she had heard snippets of things from Pansy or Hermione about Harry and Ginny arguing more or Ginny being away more; as much as she tried to ignore it, she gathered that the main problem was not them not spending enough time together.

It wasn’t her business.

Until Harry had made it her business by showing up at her home one afternoon. She opened the door to find a very forlorn looking Harry who said, “I know you’ve been busy but please. I need to talk to someone and I don’t want to involve Hermione and Ron more than they already are.” How could she say no to that face?

This was about three months before Astoria’s wedding in January and Tori herself had been here. “Hey Daph, who’s,” she stopped, eyes widening at Harry’s mood. “Oh, I’ll come back later. Bye Harry.” With that Tori was out the door, leaving the two of them alone.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company. I could still get her back and-”

“No, you’re here now. What’s wrong?”

“Ginny and I broke up.”

Daphne’s heart thudded. “I’m sorry,” she told Harry, sympathetically. She led him into the kitchen and flicked her wand to summon two bowls and spoons; then retrieved the ice cream.

Harry finally cracked a weak smile at that. “Ice cream after a breakup. Isn’t that cliche?”

“Some things are cliches for a reason.”

Over the next hour, Harry told her a lot: how he and Ginny had realized how little time they spent together, how maybe they’d become serious too young, and that maybe their relationship had run its course. “It’s for the best. I know it’s for the best, but I can’t believe it’s over. After everything we’ve been through, how could we just fizzle out like that?” Harry had vented and Daphne wisely decided he didn’t want an answer. “Fuck, I miss her.”

There was really nothing she could say to that. She didn’t say it was going to get better. Or agree that it was for the best. Or that he’d find someone else, or that Ginny would come back. She just let him talk until he couldn’t anymore and he was ready to leave on his own. She walked him out and, before she could move out of the way, he hugged her quickly. “Thank you for listening,” he said and she pushed down hard on the way being in his arms made her feel. This was absolutely not the time.

* * *

It took Harry months but he slowly got back to himself and thankfully went to Hermione and Ron more again with any problems he experienced regarding his breakup. His grief over his relationship ending pushed away any thoughts she was having….until he pulled himself back together three months in and then they came back worse. Without the buffers of either Ginny or his mourning period, it was harder to stop herself from noticing things such as his pretty eyes or sense of humor or his smile. That was on top of how much she had to admit she enjoyed his company.

It was getting ridiculous and by the end of January she no longer had Astoria and Draco’s wedding as a distraction. By February, she had to finally admit to herself that these feelings were not a phase or going away any time soon. Especially not after her birthday towards the end of the second week when she’d opened up a tube shaped packabe from him to find a now rare Spellbound poster signed by each member of the band. The card with it simply stated: _Happy birthday! I might have played the Voldemort card, but don’t tell anyone. I still think the Weird Sisters are a better band, sorry._

Even with the horrible insult to her favorite band, her heart had melted.

It was getting harder and harder to keep it hidden from him. Especially towards the end of February when people like Pansy and Tracey and even Hermione started hinting to Harry about maybe dating again. Daphne kept her mouth shut as the other three suggested or teased him, except for one time Tracey decided to be annoying: “Just think about it, Harry. Any witch would be lucky to get a date with you. Right, Daph?”

Daphne missed catching a chocolate frog before it turned back and landed on the floor. “I...what?”

Tracey bit her lip to keep from laughing while Pansy just looked at her thoughtfully. “I said any witch should be happy to go out with Harry. Don’t you agree?”

Harry was looking at her now, an eyebrow raised, and she wanted to curse Tracey. “Of course I...Harry, if you want to date again then date someone. I’m sure whoever you’d pick would be special.” She stood up to hide the flush darkening her face and asked, “Now are we going or not?”

She ignored how Tracey giggled to Harry, “See even Daphne agrees with us.”

She ignored even more strongly Pansy walking up beside her to say, “You should tell him.”

However as March rolled around, that advice was coming to the forefront of her thoughts more and more. Daphne hadn’t wanted to come across as if she had been waiting for Harry to get over Ginny so she could make a move - she hadn’t- but was there a way not to? At the very least, keeping it a secret was starting to wear on her. Still it took her another week to talk herself into it and finally decided it was long enough at Ron and Pansy’s housewarming party.

She volunteered to go with Harry to pick up the take-away and had been rehearsing what to say in her head when Harry asked to stop before going inside. Harry was smiling cheerfully and started, “I wanted to tell you something.”

Her heart skipped. “Yes?”

“I ran into Ginny the other day.” She was getting a foreboding feeling now; Harry was oblivious as he continued, “We talked for hours and well...we decided to try again.”

Something sharp sprouted in her chest.

He looked at her and she realized she had to say something, “That’s great. Are you sure?” Merlin fucking damnit, why did she ask that question?

Harry’s forehead creased. “How could I not be? Ginny and I had something special. Everyone assumed we’d end up together and so did I. That’s not something that happens all the time. I feel like I owe it to myself to try and see if that’s still true.”

With every word he said, it felt like her lungs were constricting more and more. Despite that, she forced herself to smile and say, “If that’s really what you want, go for it. You deserve to be happy.”

That wasn’t even a lie.

Harry smiled and said, “Thanks Daphne and I hope you find someone soon. You deserve to be happy too.”

Daphne had no idea how she kept a straight face as her heart felt like it was being squeezed hard. No one seemed to notice as she followed him back into the house and rejoined the party. Her only consolation was that she could keep her pride as he saved her from the humiliation of rejection. She got through about another hour and a half before she saw Blaise and came to a decision. She walked up, leaned against the wall next to him, and asked, “Are you doing anything after this?”

Blaise stilled before turning to look at her fully, studying her. It had been sometime since the last time they’d been together and she’d never been the one to do the asking before. “Are you actually-”

“It’s a yes or no question, Blaise.” There was a funny tickle at the back of her throat that she ignored.

He looked at her long enough that she started to lose patience before he finally nodded. “Is my place fine?”

“Perfect.”

When she left Blaise’s flat the following morning, she barely noticed a cough.

Two weeks later, after she’d gotten back from seeing Harry and Ginny at Theo’s, she was barely inside her own door before she was hit by a coughing spasm. Suddenly, she felt something at the back of her throat and it pushed its way up through her mouth and into her hand. The coughing finally subsided and she let herself slide to the floor until she was sitting with her back against the door. Daphne opened her right hand and stared down at it almost uncomprehendingly.

A sticky, red flower petal sat in the palm of her hand.

**Author's Note:**

> The description of Hanahaki came from the Wikipedia page on fictional diseases, with some tweaks to make it more HP specific. This chapter ended up being a bit longer than I thought it would, but I really felt a real build up to how Daphne could fall for Harry this strongly was needed. I didn't want to just be like 'she loves him, that's all you need to know'.
> 
> Fun facts: The unnamed Muggle band Daphne likes is Muse; the fic was originally going to be titled after one of their songs, but then a different song gave me more inspiration. For those who probably caught it, yes Daphne's birthday is on Valentine's Day. It's something I've thought for a while but never got to write in until now; I just liked the irony of her being born on that day vs her experience growing up around her parents relationship and her at times cynical view on romantic love.


End file.
